Third Person POV

Hiraga Momo had been prowling the vacant lot behind her apartment complex when Kuin finally showed up. Her fingers twitched as the shadow he cast upon the matte, gunmetal wall tapped her turned back. Instinctively, Hiraga whirled around, extending a demanding hand, "You're late, boy." Her planted feet were the only hungry roots in this desolate urban landscape, her bright coral hair the soiled bud of sidewalk cracks.

Kuin remained unmoved as he swung off his drawstring backpack. From within he pulled out a small cardboard box, which she snatched up hastily and pried at with a ravenous madness. In her frenzy she disregarded the rough flaps that chipped at her painted nails to reveal sickly yellow beneath. Her spasmodic eyes found its target at last and the woman finally exhaled, rubbing her fingers therapeutically to smooth back the peeling nude polish. She shut the lid back neatly, but her brief serenity was spoiled as Kuin's mocking giggles reached her ears.

"I see someone isn't taking to withdrawal well."

Hiraga's nostrils flared. "You gave me a third of the promised dose last time!" Suddenly, the inexplicable frustration of adulting seized her decaying shell and she raised her hand, wrenching back control over the hollow limb just before she initiated a blow at the little boy. But when she returned to her senses a second later, his smoldering eyes were not that of a child's.

"Maybe next time you'll do a better job at your assignment!" he barked back uncharacteristically, "We almost lost her!"

Hiraga shifted the box behind her as she bowed her head atop fidgeting feet. "I tried to convince her not to go back to Fukuoka..." One glance at Kuin's harsh glare told her he was not going to buy her pathetic mumble of a response. But it had been a long month. Screw that. Her limp curls bounced. "Well we didn't!"

If not for Kuin constantly setting the bar higher, she would have snapped at that impetuous Hakuchou long ago.

She did not hear the ring, but it was clear something had interrupted them. Kuin slipped a sleek, dark phone out of his camouflage print pants pocket with a gray gloved hand and peered at the screen. Observing the top of his crimson hair, she entertained the thought of how he always seemed to move faster than the present, as if his life was a constant chase. The coincidences laughably reminded Hiraga of the Red Queen Hypothesis she had learned so long ago in college, where she had first sold her soul for narcotics.

"I need to go. You're not my only pair of eyes."

She did not know much about Kuin besides that, and she suspected Kuin was not even his real name. He had first contacted her about half a year ago offering liquified relief that would otherwise eat up half of her monthly salary. Hakuchou was the exact opposite of this boy: stagnant, until she pricked her fair finger and drew dark blood. In her artificial little soap bubble, she was oblivious to the wolves that await her in the forest. Hiraga feared for her and all the rest whom Kuin favored, for he was a thorny one for sure. She had spent enough time with him to understand that his true colors were not for warding off predators, but for attracting prey.

As for the souls he did not? She would not like to know.

Hakuchou's POV

Yamagishi and I stood three meters before each other, away from other drills in progress on the artificial grass. Our own drill had begun alright at first--I would throw the ball, and he would head it back. Catch, repeat. Ten sets, then switch. Beside us, a trio of student analysts observed and tapped away at their laptops. The soft, maddening click of keys pervaded the room. The analysts and their equipment outnumbered the players in this spacious indoor field, ensuring not a single movement of ours went undocumented.

Which was a nightmare.

In the past week, these diligent analysts had already compiled an abysmal player profile for me. Even if anyone had been fooled by my attempt to cover up that mistake in my first game, the numbers were in to dispel any possible lingering doubt on my abilities, or the lack of it. Strangely, not once did Toyama call me out, although he never hesitated to reprimand anyone else for the smallest of flaws. He only ever stared at my encores of disaster with a bewildered expression.

Yamagishi raised the ball behind his head. "Please don't make me run after it again," he muttered, "Please just try so we can be productive." He said that as if I had not been trying my best everyday, but I bit back my tongue. I had nothing to say after accidentally heading the ball at Arata while he was airborne. Honorable mentions before that last straw convinced Toyama to relocate us included tripping up Fujimaru's cone dribbling and knocking the back of Terakawa's head.

"Just. Bounce. It. Back," Yamagishi urged for good measure before he hurled the ball. His patronizing tone annoyed me, but my forehead throbbed too much for me to care about anything that was not flying at my face this instant.

Thump.

My vision went dark. I stumbled backwards and fell on my rear end, stars ringing in my ears. Did that make sense? I surely would not know.

A girlish exclamation pierced my disoriented state. Blinking the fuzziness away, I located the source to the third year analyst in charge of completing my player profile, one of who had sat in the first row at our previous match. She brushed off the other two analysts and Yamagishi crowding around her while clutching her nose. A trickle of red that matched the deep color of her slicked back bob escaped her fist, but she stepped back quickly before it could drip on her pressed clothes.

I gasped and scrambled to my feet, nearly falling over again to dip into a deep bow. "I'm-"

"You, get me a tissue box. And you, get ice for Suishou-kun," she instructed her companions without letting me finish my apology. Tsutsui Akari was always uncomfortably serious, but that was one of the reasons why I liked her; she never seemed to judge me for my failures, only focus on her own responsibilities. This made me feel worse. Now I probably ruined one of my only neutral relationships.

"I'll get the ball," Yamagishi volunteered. As he walked past me, careful so that his back was to Tsutsui, he huffed and gave me a pointed glare. "Can I talk to you after practice?"

It was clearly a demand, not a question. "Sure," I wearily obliged. He probably wanted to chew me out without involving the analysts, which I deserved. After he left, I collapsed back on the ground. My hazy eyes drifted toward a flare--it was Arata, shooting against Sugimori.

He had surprised me when he pulled out Fire Tornado at Teikoku Gakuen. I had been under the impression that hissatsu (a term which I familiarized myself with among a flurry of other soccer jargon) was unique to Gouenji Shuuya. Later I had learned that it was, and what Arata accomplished was apparently a big deal for Mikage Sennou's soccer team. I would be lying if I said that I was not disappointed with how little we interacted since that day.

I laid down and looked up at the oppressive ceiling. With a little bit of imagination and a lot of headache, I pretended it was only an unnaturally blue sky. 

Time Skip

After changing out of my jersey in the away team's locker room, an upgrade from the girl's restroom, I hurried back across the empty, expansive outdoor field under the blank stare of overhead satellite dishes. A light shiver went down my spine, and I picked up my pace. This place gave me the creeps. While I was always watched at Mikage, this atmosphere was more intense, as if some nebulous entity sought to pry into my brain with unfeeling scalpels.

I nodded to Sugimori as he held the door to the soccer building open for me on his way out. He was among the last of the stragglers leaving, perhaps still unused to the Mikage students' scary, normalized efficiency as well. "Suishou-san--" he cleared his throat, shifting his weight in a rigid manner, but I ducked under his arm pretending not to have heard him. I knew what he wanted. Although I had tried to approach him first on our second day, adjusting to Mikage Sennou had left me too busy and exhausted to prioritize the subject. I was not ready for that conversation yet while I still had this one to attend to.

On the second floor, Yamagishi was waiting with arms crossed in the deserted indoor field as I expected. What were Fujimaru and Terakawa doing here too?

"Sorry for making you wait."

They showed no intention of leaving.

Yamagishi's grimace was restrained, but his statement was direct. "This is an intervention. You're just not a good fit for our team."

"I'm sorry about today." I fixated on the small dark crusty spot on the ground in front of me left from my worst incident to date. The stain must feel as I did: an embarrassment wanting for someone to scrub it away before the end of the day so that everyone could just forget about it.

Fujimaru was as cold as ever. "It's not just about today. You've been messing up the order around here ever since you transferred. I don't understand why Kantoku holds you to a different standard."

"I know," I whispered.

"He sent you, didn't he?" Terakawa interrupted. He? Fujimaru shushed him, but Terakawa pushed him aside and marched up to my face. "Oh, stop acting. I've figured it all out," he hissed, "Kageyama must have planted you in here to sabotage us. He knows with Sugimori-senpai, Mikage Sennou might actually stand a threat to Teikoku."

There it was, that mysterious name Kageyama again. Terakawa's presumption was so far from the horrid truth I had been denying, so misunderstood in the lack of initiative I had in my journey to Mikage and so shallow in reason compared to my confusing reality, as if this could all be for a stupid ball game and the ego of a junior high school--ha!, that I broke. In sarcasm slurred with tiredness, I let the absurdity out in one breath, "Maybe my whole family died and I was non-consensually brought back like a science experiment, and the only lead in my life is some creeper who communicates exclusively through the occasional letter!" My outburst seemed to surprise Terakawa a little, who backed off.

"Is everything a joke to you?" Fujimaru asked quietly.

Yamagishi had the good judgement that this was his last chance to keep things civil. "Alright, break up. You had your turn Fujimaru-kun." He took a small step in front of Fujimaru, positioning himself between Fujimaru and I without leaving Fujimaru's side. The atmosphere settled into a simmer. I took the appreciated pause to distance myself again from the unwanted emotions. Not everything is sad, I reminded myself, If I stay optimistic, I will find the silver lining. With that, I forced a feeling of normalcy back into my bones.

Addressing me now, Yamagishi continued cautiously, but soon slipped back into his original imperative voice, "Back to what I wanted to say. With Arata-san's new hissatsu and Sugimori-senpai joining the team, this year is my best chance at making it to the Football Frontier finals. Whatever your reason, I won't have you compromise it.

"We are formally asking you to resign from the team."

"What?! No!" The rebuke came out sharp; my brows furrowed reflexively above my accusatory glare. "You don't have the right to ask this of me," I said, calmer.

"I thought as much. So I prepared this." Yamagishi reached into his school bag and withdrew a plain folder. He folded the front cover against the back then held it out for me to see.

"It's...it's a petition." I could hardly believe what was happening. Yamagishi's name was at the top, followed by Fujimaru's and Terakawa's. I felt faint. I was once again the inadequate girl in the wrong social circle, the ugly wannabe who the popular girls that hung around Misako complained about behind my back, except this time Misako would not stand up for me.

The surgery was supposed to fix that! I'm pretty now! I deserve to be respected, why- That's right! There was someone else who would.

"Arata-san won't sign," I assured shakily. This faith grounded me. He had been so friendly when I expressed interest in joining the team. After realizing I needed additional guidance, he had taken care to explain things to me and escort me at Teikoku Gakuen, an appreciated distinction from Fujimaru and Terakawa's inhospitable attitudes that day. Then there was that incomprehensible smile during the match. In the school hallways, he greeted me first every other time. He did not even get mad when I interfered with his drills earlier today.

"Arata-san knows he won't have a team if he goes against the majority opinion," Yamagishi dismissed. His lack of hesitation shook me. No, the kind Arata, the only person on the team who made me feel welcomed, could not be this type of amoral person...could he?

There was something different about Arata until said captain noticed my presence. "It's nice to have you with us, Suishou-san," he stammered.

I wondered what our mascot was. I opened my mouth to ask Arata, then changed my mind when I saw his face. The serious visage I observed earlier had replaced the warmth I knew once again.

Arata's intense expression when he wove through Teikoku's formation and outmaneuvered their principal defender twice.

Which persona was his real self? The considerate leader who offered me his wing, or the impassive player with hungry eyes on the prize?

What if I had constructed a romanticized impression of him simply because he was nicer to me than everyone else had been? People are always nicer to prettier girls.

I had assumed Arata's good character when I knew nothing about him.

"So I can't convince you not to go ahead with this, huh?" I raised my voice and smiled bitterly, trembling as I backed away, "Not a sob story, not a moral argument, and not your opposition.

"You're a hypocrite, Yamagishi-san. If you say that this is your best chance at reaching the finals, yet you're counting on Arata-san's Fire Tornado as a forward yourself, you're no different from a handicap like me."

Before Yamagishi could lash back, I turned around and ran away, wiping at the tears that still would not come. My makeup was all that rubbed away.

New banner ^^^!!! I loved writing with Arata's voice, but I'm glad to be back in Hakuchou's head. Tsutsui Akari is a scout character from the games. I've been thinking of moving to Archive of Our Own (AO3) since the Wattpad security breach, and because I don't like the money-focused direction Wattpad is moving in. I've heard good things about AO3 but I'd love to hear about any experience you have had there as well. I want to post my free content on platforms that only host free content without locking away existing features behind a paywall. My only concern is that I've also heard that OC-centric fics do very poorly on AO3. I'm not worried about the stats, although they do affect my morale, it's just that I've received so many thorough reviews on Wattpad or from people I've met through Wattpad that I can't imagine a fulfilling fanfiction career without this positive response. I'm still satisfied with FanFiction.Net at least, but I can't see it being my only platform because of the minimal reader interaction.